Valentine's Ball
by themaltesefalcon
Summary: Professor Longbottom struggles to ask Professor Granger to attend the Valentine's Ball with him.


Valentine's Ball

Professor Neville Longbottom glanced tentatively across the table at his colleague, Professor Granger. He knew better than to talk to her before she'd had at least two cups of coffee, so he waited patiently. Pushing his eggs aimlessly around his plate, he gave a small sigh. The Valentine's Ball was in two days, and he still hadn't gotten up the courage to ask Professor Granger to be his date. He may have helped to defeat the Dark Lord, but beautiful women still had the power to turn him into an incoherent, terrified mess. And Hermione Granger was not merely a beautiful woman. She was _the_ beautiful woman. For as long as Neville could remember, Hermione had represented everything he thought a person should be: kind, helpful, friendly, polite… not to mention intelligent. She was probably the most hardworking person he knew. Despite all this, Neville had always known that Hermione was out of bounds. As part of the Golden Trio, she remained untouchable, despite her warm and caring manner. Even if all the other reasons Neville could think of for why Hermione was not a viable option were to disappear, the fact remained, she was completely out of his league.

Neville suppressed another sigh, and forced himself to sit up a little straighter. Things were different now. He'd worked hard to become the kind of man who a woman like Hermione Granger might notice. No longer was he a timid schoolboy who could barely stop his hand from shaking when casting a simple charm. He was a powerful, confident, and attractive man, gosh darn it! … Well, at least, that was what he was going to pretend when he asked her out. Which he absolutely _was_ going to do, no excuses! As soon as she finished that cup of coffee, he was going to stand up, march purposefully over to her seat, and demand that she speak with him in private. Then he would lead her to the hallway where he would romantically kneel, take her hand, and declare his undying passion for her. Swooning, she would fall gracefully into his arms, after which he would manfully carry her back to his rooms. Yessir. He had it all planned out.

"Neville? Could you please pass the syrup?" the lady in question asked.

"Y-yes, of course," Neville replied, hastily pulling himself out of his daydream. He fumbled with the syrup bottle for a moment, handing it to her awkwardly. Blushing lightly, he apologized.

"Thank you, Neville," Hermione said, smiling gently at him. "How are you this morning?"

Glancing at her cup, Neville realized that she'd finished her coffee. This was his chance. Gulping audibly, he looked into her kind, inquiring, brown eyes. "I was… I mean, I'm doing well. Thank you." He gave her a weak smile. "Um. Actually, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute. Abouttheball."

"Sorry?" Hermione questioned, presumably asking for clarification. Her head tilted to the side, and she leaned in closer to him.

Neville cleared his throat. "I was wondering if I could talk to you about the ball." He spoke slowly, taking breaths in between each word. His cheeks felt warm, and he knew he was blushing again.

"Of course, Neville. What is it?"

Here it was. His big moment. The break-or-make it point of his relationship with Hermione. Either he asked her out, putting himself on the line for complete rejection, or he said nothing, allowing himself to keep his dignity. But say what you will, Neville never had been and never would be a coward. Swallowing dryly, he opened his mouth. "I was hoping. That is, I was wondering. I mean, if you felt like it, we could, you know… go to the ball?"

"Well, of course we'll go to the ball. It is a mandatory school event," Hermione responded, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Neville felt a bead of sweat go down his back. "I meant. That is, I thought it could be fun. If we went, you know, together?" his voice cracked over the last word, and he cringed. Silence met his poorly worded statement. He desperately tried to keep himself from bolting for the door, as a second turned into two, and then three, and then four. No indication of Hermione's feelings were visible on her face. He had no idea whether he was about to be scolded, rejected, laughed at, or dismissed as entirely unworthy, but he had asked, and now he had to deal with the consequences. He held his breath as he waited for her response. The longer the silence, the more his dread increased. His blood pounded in his ears, and he was just about to attempt to laugh it all off as a poor joke, when...

Suddenly a smile bloomed on Hermione's face, dimples appearing in both cheeks. "I would love to go to the ball with you," she announced, somewhat loudly. "I can think of nothing I would like more." She stood abruptly from her chair, walked over to Neville, and placed a _kiss_ on his cheek. Smiling broadly at him, she said, "I'll see you at lunch," before leaving the Great Hall, _humming_ lightly.

Neville felt a sense of euphoria settle over him. Could this possibly be real life? Sure, he hadn't exactly been the embodiment of charm he was in his daydream, but what did it matter? She'd said yes! Of all the people, in all the world, Hermione Granger had agreed to go to the Valentine's Ball with him, Neville Longbottom. In a daze, he walked towards the greenhouses, smiling stupidly at everyone he passed. He felt a ridiculous urge to yell for all of Hogwarts to hear, "HERMIONE GRANGER SAID YES!"

As he watched an owl take off from the owlery towards Hogsmeade, he stopped suddenly. The blood drained from his face. Oh, dear. Oh, dear, oh, dear. Neville realized he'd forgotten something very, very important. Turning towards the greenhouses, he felt a cold pit of doom settle in his stomach. _He had no idea how to dance._


End file.
